Pinched
by JDPhoenix
Summary: "Trust me," she said and pulled harder. She was going to get them killed.


Disclaimer: I don't own Draco or Hermione or the world they live in. If I did, the books would've turned out very differently.

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"And how _exactly_ does this help us?" Draco hissed. He didn't look at her while he said it, too busy looking up and down the dim alleyway for signs of Dolohov.

"We'll blend in with the muggles," Granger said.

_That_ got him looking at her. She tsked and pulled a long muggle coat from her bag before manhandling him out of his outer robes.

"Not quite enough, I think," he said even while he slipped on the coat. His pants - thank Merlin he'd elected to wear them today - were too high quality on their own but the coat went a long way to hiding them. _She_ hadn't bothered dressing like a witch at all, which he'd given her no small amount of grief for.

"What do you-" She cut off when he dropped his chin, bringing them face to hair. "_Oh_."

Draco had always been proud of his hair. It defined him instantly as a Malfoy to anyone he met. Unfortunately it was likely to get him killed now.

Granger's jaw set and she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the street. He dragged his feet, none too keen on being exposed under the streetlamps.

"Trust me," she said and pulled harder.

Bloody Gryffindor. She was going to get them killed.

They slipped easily into the press. Muggles jostled him on every side and he tightened his hold on Granger's hand to avoid being separated. The street was lined with vendors shadowed beneath brightly colored overhangs. The smell of spiced meat made Draco's stomach roil as they passed a food cart. When was the last time they'd stopped to eat?

Someone bumped Granger so hard she fell over one of the rickety tables. Cheaply made accessories went spilling to the ground. She threw an apology over her shoulder but the flow of bodies spurred them onward.

Half a block later she slowed enough to press something into his free hand. A knit cap. She'd stolen it. He grinned despite himself.

He pulled it on as best he could with only one hand and followed her lead between two of the vendors, into an open shop. Draco hadn't realized how loud it was out there until the sound was cut off by the closing of the door. The little coffee shop seemed to be acting as a resting area for many of the muggles caught out in that mess. Those inside looked near exhaustion and all held small cups, probably whatever they'd felt obligated to buy in exchange for a place to rest their feet.

Granger's hand fell from his and he nearly snatched it back on instinct before realizing there was no need here. She pulled his cap lower, her fingers slipping up under its rim to push stray hairs out of sight. The way she angled her head to check behind his ears exposed her long neck and he couldn't avoid breathing her in.

"Sit in the back," she said and headed for the counter.

His hands still itched to grab her back but he satisfied himself with smoothing his cap.

From a small table in the very back of the shop he could watch the muggles and keep an eye out the broad windows at the front. A mother ushered her children out of their booth, promising them what Draco assumed was some sort of muggle confection if only they'd wake up long enough to leave. Outside, a figure draped in black stood, staring through the tinted windows as if he could see through. Draco cursed.

"What is it?" Granger asked. She set two drinks on the table and followed his gaze. Dolohov was holding the door open for the mother and children, acting the gentleman while no doubt imagining bringing all sorts of horrors upon the family.

Granger echoed Draco's curse. "Scoot back."

"What?" Draco asked in confusion but Granger was already angling his chair out from under the table with her leg.

Before he knew what she was about she was sitting on his lap, mounting him like they were a couple of teenagers in some dark alcove of Hogwarts. Draco's hands came to her hips of their own accord and he remembered that while Hogwarts was leagues away, they were teenagers and likely no one would think twice about the sight of them necking in a public place. She held his face in her hands, hiding them both behind the curtain of her hair. Her lips hovered over his, not quite touching but close enough that anyone looking wouldn't know the difference. Except that neither of them was _moving._

Had she never kissed anyone before? He couldn't believe that. Not when she'd dated Viktor Krum and spent months on the run with Potter and Weasley.

Draco's eyes darted to one side. Through her hair he could just make out Dolohov, hovering near the door. He was watching them. Because this static tableau they made was more conspicuous that simply hiding their faces would have been.

Draco surged upward, catching her lips against his. She had the presence of mind not to pull away, thank Salazar. He held her hips and rolled his against her, earning him a gasp of shock and not a little outrage. She reciprocated, seeing what he was about, but she wasn't just going to let him get away with this. Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck. _Hard._ He pinched her bum in retaliation and he felt her hips stutter to a stop. He grinned against her lips and experimentally squeezed one cheek. Her gasp, this time one of pleasure, had him jumping to attention and if her own grin was any indication, she knew exactly what was brushing against the inside of her thigh.

"_Excuse me_," a pinched voice said above them.

They met each other's eyes, each taking a moment to collect themselves before responding. Granger lifted her hair on one side and Draco immediately turned his face away from the door.

"This is a family place," a pimply barrista said and flounced away.

"He's gone," Granger said a moment later.

Draco nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He allowed Granger to climb off of him and she very kindly didn't mention why he wouldn't be able to stand right away.

"We're never talking about this," she said after several minutes passed. Their coffees had gone cold but they soldiered through, neither willing to confront the reason.

"Of course not," he agreed readily. He would not, after all, need to talk about it to pinch her again later. For purely experimental purposes, of course.


End file.
